Claw Fossil
by SpiritOfMetal
Summary: You pull out a rock from a patch of mucky sand. It is a weathered claw - a rare fossil! As you wipe it clean, you begin to wonder what this creature was like once alive... A short POV of prehistoric life. One-shot.


Cobalt armored plates grated against each other.

It had been day, then it had been night.

Memories of fellow bug pokemon calling in thick humidity - they wanted answers. Hungry, desperate, angry.

There was the large expanse of green - so deep, so thick, not a lot made it out.

There were others that dwelled there, merciless. The armor plating and sharp claws had been useful.

Armor plating was heavy, however. Especially when running for one's life or helped, but long distance...not so much.

It had been a very long distance. At first, it was about fleeing. The cave had been a promising place; dark, just the right amount of dankness to put the mind at ease. Comfort, rarely found, had not lasted long.

A splitting screech, rumbling of earth. Giant foot falls, a barrage of attacks that left gashes in armor that still smarted. Escaping, escaping with a thread of life and a thicket of will. Moons had passed since that night.

Sand, rocks, endless sky. Wind that calmed the blisters that hurt inside and out.

Wind gradually stopped. Rocks grew taller. Threats were once again present, and with armor plating so beaten, it would not withstand. So a decision was made to turn towards the ball of heat in the sky and keep walking.

Rocks returned to their places, small and odd bushes and the even odder silence. Hunger made the blisters burn, made everything swim. What was the sky? What was the ground? What were the shrieks, so blood thirsty in the distance - the rumbles of thunder, of the stomach, of a distant lightning strike that jolted down the spine?

Static, the static that was always there. The burn that thoughts left, the constant vigil that it took to survive. With each sunset and rise, with the ebb and flow of each day, the stretch and pull, run and feed.

Except, there had been no food. Not this time.

There had to be something. Some sort of green or meat. Someone left behind by the pack out of pity. Claws shook out of desperation.

It was a deep valley that called. A strong, thick scent wafted from it. On any normal day, it would have been suspicious.

But the emptiness, the emptiness of the very land that echoed throughout heavy armor drove the body forward. It acted on it's own, mind weak and shallow. There was little more but to plow and fumble down sharp rock ledges, through grime and dirt. Legs began to shake with exhaustion, energy dwindling.

Through dust, distant slitted eyes peered and found it odd that the area was empty. A lack of life. The heavy smell drenched the trench, filling and pouring.

Footing beneath gave way, and energy was gone. Plating crashed into eachother, and the tank limply tumbled down to the bottom of the pit.

Falling rocks did not bounce - they shlopped into black sludge. Thoughts were dim and aware of lukewarm slickness. Body facing upwards, consciousness came to to an overcast sky. Claws stirred, plates complained. The lukewarm sensation held fast - sticky, even. After a moment's rest, more moving was useless.

Blinking dust away, a hammer-shaped head turned. Dismal, as the place had been; empty, but black? Water was not supposed to be black.

A rumble reverberated from down below the black. A putrid scent and things spun, spun fast until they faded away.

.

The murk appeared again, this time closer to slitted eyes, slowly pulling downwards.

Static flew and claws thrashed, only getting stuck fast. Tail and legs flailed, only to move slightly.

The sky was darker, sun blinking out behind jagged triangles. Air pokemon soared past to a distant roost, unaware of what was below.

Night was coming, as it always had.

Claws, wings, and now neck spikes were one with the sludge. It was pulling, and struggle only made it hungry.

Emptiness of stomach was not so much a bother anymore. As stars blipped into light, the cumbersome aching vessel was relaxed. Eyes blinked at the heavens.

Many nights were spent looking at the same small lights, but this time, they seemed brighter. They burned with an intensity that made eyes water. Breath was caught in awe.

Limbs grew numb and stiff. The deep gashes that throbbed were now sated. The sludge waited behind, tickling the back of it's head.

The sky became wider. It did not end, and neither did the lights. Thoughts circled and stung, stung where the electricity always struck.

As endless as the land was, as expansive as the heavens, there was comfort that it would always be. Strange, rare comfort.

The sludge gargled, and hammerhead eyes blinked. Had there been a voice? Had the ooze just...spoke?

It belched, groaned, shook.

The pit had been sleeping, and now it was awake.

The sludge sighed, and the heavy body was yanked further. The air filled with that thick, coated smell.

Hammerhead turned and saw a protrusion - a bone. It was sinking too.

Hazy, heavy eyes, stars above. They spun faster, light dimming. Stickiness ran down its throat, filling its chest.

Perhaps, one day, those stars would be seen again.


End file.
